"This is a wonderful country," said papa, "for the way its associations are packed. There is more history here than in any other region of the world."
"Well, papa, it is the world's history," I said.
"What do you mean, Daisy?"
I hesitated; it was not very easy to tell.
"She is right though," said Mr. Dinwiddie; "it is the very core of the world's history, round which the other is slowly gathering and maturing, to the perfected fruit. Or to take it another way, - ever since God at the first did visit the Gentiles, to take put of them a people for His name, His dealings with that people have been an earnest and an image of His course with His Church at large. We may cut down to the heart of the world and find the perfect flower here - as we do in bulbs."
"A blossoming to destruction then, it seems," said my father.
"No!" said Mr. Dinwiddie - "to restoration and glory. The history of this land is not yet finished."
"And you think that is in store for it yet?"
Mr. Dinwiddie answered, - " 'Thus saith the Lord; If ye can break my covenant of the day, and my covenant of the night, and that there should not be day and night in their season; then may also my covenant be broken with David my servant, that he should not have a son to reign upon his throne; and with the Levites the priests, my ministers. As the hosts of heaven cannot be numbered, neither the sand of the sea measured: so will I multiply the seed of David my servant, and the Levites that minister unto me.' "
"Who spoke that?"